On Slavery
OOC: I FORGOT MY LOGGER STRIPS CHANNELS. All of the Broadcast stuff leading up to this is gone on my end. If someone else has it, that would be GREAT. Swift Blade is following after a very strange looking femme and she has a bit of a 'Primus grant me patience' look on her usually unruffled face. Part of her knows this has a good chance of NOT ENDING WELL at all. Maybe some of Blast Off's luck has rubbed off on her. Either way, she's hoping Hot Rod can hold his temper. The big gray tentacle-armed fembot is moving along the streets towards the Acroplex, glaring at any who happen to actually look at her. She carries herself as if she is better than everyone else, because nine million years ago she -was-. Cybertronians were chattel to be bought, worked and sold, and one of her jobs was to make certain the slaves were fed, working and obedient. She has an unusual green crest on her torso, one that only Swift Blade might recognize. It looks almost like a skull. Hot Rod's approach is impossible to miss: he's low and sleek and speedy and showy as he, well, hot rods down the streets of Nyon. The rev of his engine mutes into the working of his transformation cog as he approaches Swift Blade. And her friend. "Please /what/," he says as he transforms in a smoothly unfolding flow of machinery to stride toward them. TADA. He is here. This is his version of holding his temper. Swift Blade smiles faintly and inclines her head towards Hot Rod. Despite his impetuous ways, there's a certain charm to the hot headed mech. Maybe because he's so very different from herself. "It is good to see you again Hot Rod," she says solemnly. "The world we live in now is completely foreign to her," and she motions towards Exoletus. "So you can't expect her to be like the rest of the planet, for good or for ill," she tries to explain. "There you are," Exoletus notes to Hot Rod as if he were just another number on an inventory list. "What purpose do you serve in this city, and why is it in such a wretched condition?" Somewhat despite himself, Hot Rod's bristling softens at Swift Blade's calm and reasonable greeting. He returns her smile, though his is a thin, tense thing, and even manages a, "Yeah, you too," that seems warm enough. But when he fades off against Exoletus -- and make no mistake, it's definitely aggressive, defensive, both at once -- he folds his arms, roots his feet, and squares his shoulders. "Who are you to ask? I'm Hot Rod of Nyon. My purpose is my own choice. And you can thank the Senate for the condition of the city." Swift Blade would be tempted to face-palm if that was her was. As it is, she barely winces. "It's been an interesting cycle so far," she says to Hot Rod, rubbing her forehead for a moment. Well, at least she can count on him to not back down...though she's not sure if it's a good thing in this situation. Turning to Exoletus, she smiles faintly. "I doubt Hot Rod is the reason for Nyon's downfall. If anything good remains here, it is probably due to his efforts," she says. "I'm guessing the city was already in ruin by the time he was sparked." Yeah, he comes across as so young, but she realizes she doesn't even know how old he is. "My name is Exoletus. I am an Arbitrix of the Quintesson Co-Prosperity Sphere, overseer of the Sharkticon Conclave," she announces to Hot Rod. "It would seem I have been buried for many millions of years, long past the rebellion of your kind against your proper masters ... and I have been abandoned." She glances at the ramshackle city and wonders if everything on the planet is so 'low rent'. What a dump. "It is a fitting punishment for my failure." Back down? Definitely not. Hot Rod stands firm, filled with whole-sparked teenage rebellion. Young? That's fair. And dreadfully, dreadfully true. "There is no such thing as a proper master. Every single sparked person has the right to make their own choices. We have fought for freedom them, and we fight for it now. Whatever you remember is over, nothing more than history most of us aren't even taught." He's /exceptionally/ blunt, but whatever brutality there is lies in the cold facts rather than malicious attack. He makes some effort to gentle his language with a glance at Swift Blade and a self-conscious shift of his posture. He unfolds his arms. There. Better. Every time Exoletus mentions the Quintessons, Swift Blade flinches. She can't help it really. What little hate that exists in her spark is directly solely at them. "We were not theirs to begin with," she says softly to the out-dated femme. "We had been free before they came." Her memories of that time are distant. "Don't think of yourself as abandoned; think of yourself as emancipated." Nodding her head to Hot Rod, she can't help but smile at his youthful exuberance and determination. "If it is any consolation to you, she's not interested in siding with the current government," she says. She's already heard his thoughts on /that/ matter. "Have you ever been to another world?" Exoletus asks Hot Rod. Oh, she is going to school the little upstart, simply for the pleasure of bursting his bubble. She's had a terrible day, what with waking up by being pulled out of dirt, finding out everything she ever knew or cared about is dead or has left her to rot on what looks like Ghetto World. Not to mention she's several million years older than she remembers. At least everything still works. She hopes. Looking at Swift Blade she asks, "Are all the denizens of this barrio so impetuous and ignorant? You have my condolences." "Oh, well. Good." Hot Rod relaxes a little farther and flashes a grin in Swift Blade's direction. "Now if we can just work the part where you talk about slaves and masters--!" He turns to Exoletus, and meets that condescension with a cocky grin. "Who cares?" See also: no. "This world is the one that matters--" (He says ethnocentristically.) "--and I /know/ this world. What you're talking about? That's memory. That's history. You want to talk ignorant? You've got quite the gap to fill." "There is a wide range of castes, tastes, and personalities on this planet. Some individuals are far more refined. Some are more humble. Some are intellectuals. Some are content, but these seem to be increasingly rare." Swift Blade shrugs her shoulders. While the two of them are from the same era, Swift Blade has been conscious through more of it than Exoletus has been. Her nature is one of patience, so she works away at the other femme's issues slowly and as delicately as she can. But she lacks the fire that Hot Rod does. She is more like the physical planet beneath their feet; calm and steady. She shakes her head slightly at Hot Rod. "Antagonizing her isn't going to help," she says gently. "As you said, she has a lot of information to catch up on, and it must be hard for her." She sighs. "Imagine being knocked out, waking up, and finding that you knew no one and that every thing you were familiar with is either gone or so changed you can't recognize it. Now is a good time to exercise a little empathy." "If you know this world, surely you can educate me on what happened concerning the slave rebellion," Exoletus questions Hot Rod with a wry smile. "Please, help this poor, ignorant Arbitrix. Go on! Tell me who lead the rebellion. How did it end. How did the 'Prime' come to lead this world. What is the Senate and where did it come from? What is the origin of 'Functionism'? Perhaps you might even grace this poor unworthy being with a list of member states in the Galactic Council, surely SOME of them still exist after nine million years." Ugh. Empathy. /Primus/. Hot Rod draaags his hands down his face -- literally, there's a rub at his jaw as he tries to work the indignation out of his joints. "I'm not antagonizing her! I mean, okay, I can see where it sounds maybe not that ... nice," he says, truly and sincerely trying to work his way through to patience, "or whatever, but you can't just come into Nyon and shout about how people are slaves!" The attempt at patience doesn't last. Hot Rod's fire catches, roaring into renewed heat. "These people hear that too much! Disposable, slaves -- what's the difference? People fought for their freedom then, and they are fighting for it now. Freedom's the natural state, not slavery. Rebellion just repeats itself because some people crave power more than justice. You want to know what happened with the rebellion? The whatevers lost. The Senate rose. And here we are again." Well, the sarcasm is not really lost on Swift Blade, though she is not a sarcastic creature herself. "I believe the one we talked to earlier, Rewind, would be the best at history. Hot Rod here, is very immersed in the present and will know more about what is happening with which people as long as it isn't deep Senate secrets." Yes, because plying up Hot Rod's good points is never going to backfire. Ever. She glances at Hot Rod himself. "I know this really isn't your forte; you're a mech of action. Still, I appreciate the effort you are going through. Why don't you talk about what you would like to see Cybertron become in the future?" Exoletus sighs, raising a pair of tentacles in a gesture like spread hands. "When I last recharged, the creatures around me were obedient slaves, and the language was not 'Neocybex'. There was an uprising of slaves that concerned the Masters, and I was to gather the Sharkticons to put it down. There was an explosion and I remember all going dark. Now I awake to find that time and history have passed me by." She steps closer to Hot Rod. "Young protoform, what did you honestly expect me to call you? I know nothing of rebellion only that it occurs when the slaves are ill-treated, underfuelled or not properly occupied. I, too, am slave to the Masters; I see no shame in it. You say your purpose is found by your own decision. What then, did you choose for yourself? Satisfy my curiosity." That's a /very kind way to put it/. Hot Rod is deeply immersed in the present. He's a sucker for Swift Blade's words -- easy mark -- and straightens when she calls him a mech of action. YEAH!! HERO!! His reply is to Swift Blade and Exoletus both: "/Change/. I want to see change. I choose change. People deserve the freedom they've fought for time and again. Once, maybe before your masters, legend says we actually managed it." Regarding Exoletus, Hot Rod says, "You're not a slave anymore." His tone is -- for /him/ -- gentle. "And yeah, maybe things have passed you by. But you're one person among others. That's what I want people, not just you, to recognize." "What if I choose to be a slave?" Exoletus asks Hot Rod. As Exoletus seems to shift gears slightly, Swift Blade relaxes slightly. At least the femme can come down from her 'nose in the air' position. Which means there is hope for her in this time yet. Her last words to Hot Rod make her looks surprised. "I don't know if we have slaves exactly. You wouldn't want to be disposable, which isn't exactly the same thing. But if it will suffice simply to have someone to give you orders, then a leader of sorts could likely to be found to suit you," she says carefully. Turning to Hot Rod she gives him an encouraging smile. She sees a lot of potential in him if he can only curb his impulses. Hot Rod's first retort doesn't make it past his lips. He catches Swift Blade's glance, pauses, and thinks half a second longer. "What if you change your mind?" "I was ignited a slave, and I shall die a slave. But what does a slave do when her masters are dead, or have abandoned her?" Exoletus asks Hot Rod. "I do not know. I do not believe I will change my mind about who or what I am, the brand upon me marks me forever. But it is now a meaningless brand. I cannot go forward. I have no path back." "I was sparked free and sold into slavery by the Quintessons," Swift Blade says thoughtfully. "In a way we are all a slave to the system. I do not have the power of words that some people do. But right now, those who are fighting the system are trying to work away from things like slavery. So while you may find a commander, you will not find someone to hold your reins." She tilts her head to the side. "You mentioned being a warrior, yes? There are many people here who could use those skills. You wouldn't be a slave, but you could put yourself in their hands." She smiles. "When I was released, I flitted between elation and emptiness. But I am satisfied with being free." Swiftblade and Hot Rod may or may not catch sight of someone both of them would certainly recognize walking around on the streets of Nyon. Blurr -looks- like he's just on a casual stroll; but if either of their previous encounters with him are any indication, that probably isn't the case! "Maybe you could try ... not being a slave." Hot Rod slants a look at Swift Blade and turns his hands up in a helpless gesture. Slave psychology is a bi-i-it of a stretch for him. It's clear Exoletus leaves him at a loss. "You're already moving forward. It's all any of us can do." Hot Rod grows more uncomfortable as he listens to Swift Blade. He glances off in the direction of Iacon. "Is it like Swift Blade said, then? You want someone who gives you orders? How do you make sure they are orders worth following? What if you're ordered to do something that--" His voice breaks and hardens when he spots Blurr. His easy posture draws tense. "--you don't want to do?" Exoletus is aware of Hot Rod's sudden change in body language. Someone or something is coming that he does not like; the mech is as fluid as a sea and as mutable as the waves in a tempest. Flames? He should have had a tsunami on his chest. "A slave does not question, a slave obeys. What do my feelings have to do with anything? I am given a task, I do it. I would not be a Arbitrix, trusted with command of others, if I refused to obey commands myself." She smiles, and in the process shows shark-teeth. "Do you fancy yourself a leader, boy?" Swift Blade notes the change in Hot Rod's stance and the interruption to his words. Looking around she eventually spots Blurr, and she also tenses quite a bit. And is that a flicker of guilt flashing across her features? Why yes, yes it is. She has no regret for her actions, but she does feel bad about how it might have affected the speedy blue mech. She tears her optics away to look at Exoletus. She's pretty sure that Hot Rod will not enjoy being called a boy, yet the description is apt. She also doesn't know if he considers himself a leader. "Again, there are those who would be more than happy to give you commands and expect you to follow them," she says slowly. "In fact, such loyalty and obedience would likely earn you praise, as long as you didn't call yourself a slave." If not for Blurr's arrival, she might have mentioned Megatron and the Decepticons, but as it is, she will not. Blurr continues walking, his form intermittently obscured here and there as others pass between them and him, but eventually he can be seen approaching a run-down residential complex on the other side of the street. He stops in front of a rusted door and raps on it. "Those I lead are free to make their own choices," Hot Rod says. He does not rise to the bait of being called a boy -- either because the shoe fits, or because he's distracted keeping an eye on Blurr. "And, for now, some of them choose to follow me." Sort of. Kind of. Really, it's more like they are pointed in the same direction, but, uh -- well. "As Swift Blade says, the Senate's where you look if you want blind obedience. There are no slaves in Nyon." "Make the tactically wise decision then, Heated Cylinder." Okay she's still getting the hang of Neocybex and sorry Hot Rod, your name's literal translation isn't what you think it is. "You hate the Senate - I have seen the hatred for this 'Senate' and 'Prime' and 'Functionist Council' in the mind of a slave whose cortex I downloaded from. If so many hate them, if you are preparing for war and rebellion, -take the unchained slave- and gain an advantage for yourself!" She turns and looks directly at Blurr, waiting. "If he does not, there are others who will," says Swift Blade softly to Exoletus. And that's all she has to say about dissidents. Every so often her optics flick to wherever Blurr is for as long as she can track him. "Freedom is dear to Hot Rod's spark; I doubt he would take on someone who was unwilling. Though, if you state you are willing to follow him without question, I'm not sure how unwilling that would be." She seems to need a few moments to mull this one over. Blurr doesn't seem to be aware of them watching him yet. The door in front of him parts, opening up to an unsurprisingly humble interior. Someone is at the door, though it's hard to see them from this angle. There's an exchange that they can't hear from across the street, and the speedster goes inside. Hot Rod looks a bit taken aback -- not by Exoletus's offer-slash-demand-slash-proposal, but by what she did to his name. "Uh, Hot Rod," he clarifies. He glances away from Blurr's now-empty doorway and back to the two femmes. He looks briefly thoughtful as Exoletus speaks, but Swift Blade's words clear his expression back to one of conviction. "She's right. Look, I hate the Senate, but that's because of what they do what I love: Nyon, my friends -- and, yeah, freedom. All of that. You're not a weapon to be wielded in a fight against the Senate -- but you might be a person I'd be happy to have fight on my side." --speaking of which, he glances back toward the door. WHAT IS HE DOING. "'Hot Rod'." That takes some getting used to. It just doesn't make any SENSE. "Your will is strong and your courage is without question - but you must come to terms with the universe as it is, not as you imagine it to be. Keep your ideals close to your spark, but temper them with the reality at hand: You are one mech against an entire government. If you are going to throw off their authority, you will need to be willing to use whatever tools are at your disposal. Because you are young and do not understand, I will teach you: If you engage in revolution, you will be forced to make choices you did not foresee, or desire to make. You may have to choose things that violate your conscience, but achieve the greater end of your goals. You say you honor freedom and choice, then honor mine: Accept me as a weapon, you will need them. I know nothing but slavery, I desire nothing but slavery, and one day you may find yourself glad that you have a Quintessonian Overseer as your bondservant." Swift Blade believes in freedom in her own way, which means she thinks that Exoletus has the freedom to give up her freedom, although the paradox of this makes her mental circuitry hurt. So she doesn't try to urge her to make another choice. If Hot Rod wishes to persist in denying her request, she will find a way to bring this femme to Megatron's attention. Though he might be as reluctant to accept a 'slave', she believes he is more pragmatic in nature than Hot Rod. For a moment, she even forgets about Blurr as this debate unfolds before her. The door closes behind Blurr as he disappears into the residence, only to emerge a few moments later with a cylindrical device under one arm. It's fairly large, though not so much so that he'd have trouble carrying it. Well, it could fit a small person, like a minibot or a dataslug altmode--perhaps that would be the only thing of note. "/Tempering/ ideals is how we end up with this." Hot Rod throws a frustrated gesture across the ruin of Nyon, then brings his hand to his hip. "I'm not going to become the same corrupt system I want to change." He regards Exoletus seriously, clearly taking his time working through same paradox that Swift Blade is puzzling through. "Okay. I /do/ honor choice, and I believe you when you say that it's your choice. But it /is/ a choice." Slightly, he smiles: "In fact, you could even think of that as your first order. You're unhappy? Tell me. And in the meantime--" He hooks his thumb over his shoulder at Blurr. "You should find out what he's carrying." "This is not tempering. This is abandonment." Exoletus's voice is there but the rest of her isn't; her mesh ripples as it shifts through colors and patterns until she just kind of blends into... everything. There's just a vague outline of her shape that slips out of sight, towards Blurr. Swift Blade sighs. This is not going to end well if she goes after Blurr. "It might be prudent to point out his specialty," she says to Hot Rod. After all, Blurr is DAMNED fast. Unbelievably so. She doesn't know what Exoletus' abilities are, but as far as she can tell, Blurr is the only person that goes at those speeds. "And it's hardly kind to involve her with him so soon. Blurr is...complicated." A fact which Hot Rod should know well. In the next moment Exoletus pulls her vanishing trick. "Then again, maybe not," she says, her expression one of amazement. Goodness knows what the femme will do. She gives Hot Rod a long look. "See, a little patience can go a long way." "Oh, right. He's fast, and he might shoot you! Don't push it if it risks your life," Hot Rod calls after Exoletus before she can get very far (and before calling it means calling a warning to Blurr). He looks back to Swift Blade, just faintly indignant. "Didn't you say she's a warrior? But -- she wouldn't go too far if I didn't tell her to, would she?" His eyes all but cross as the threads tangle in his brain. "While she follows him, why don't you tell me what I should expect? I have no idea what she's talking about half the time." "I just met her today, so I can't say I would be able to predict her actions. Although we are from the same time, in some ways, she is a mystery to me as well," Swift Blade says. "She was here on the planet serving the Quintessons directly, whereas I was enslaved to alien species, so her experiences are vastly different from my own." She gives Hot Rod a gentle smile. "I think, though, if she accepts you as a master of sorts, then she is likely to be very literal in following your...instructions." Commands aren't something she imagines Hot Rod giving.